


Tanner, that's a no-no word.

by TheGoodDoctor



Series: Squad Goals [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Gen, Hide and Seek, Kidfic, and does quite well, betting pools, cooking fast and fresh with those lot, of sorts, tanner plays dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 16:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2740043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When James Bond and Q get turned into children, Tanner is the only one who can look after them. He's not sure why, either.</p><p>Can he play hide and seek? Can he make bacon ice cream? Can he refrain from swearing?</p><p>Featuring; double-ohs, cookery, explosions, shopping and guns. Your average Bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tanner, that's a no-no word.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [combefaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/combefaerie/gifts).



> Muchos gracias to nemcrashed on tumblr for the art, which you can find here: http://nemcrashed.tumblr.com/post/135188750072/  
> I am unbelievably honoured.  
> *screams internally eternally*

Strange things happen at MI6.

Stranger things happen in Q-branch.

Tanner knew this.

He knew this.

He knew he knew this.

Perhaps, if he said it enough, he'd be able to deal with what's in front of him. Or, rather, who's in front of him. Because, on the other side of his folded arms, was Eve. And Bond. And Q. Three people. One adult.

Tanner resisted the strong urge to cry.

“You're the only one who can look after them...” Eve said, vaguely desperately.

“No, I'm not!” Tanner was aware that he was rising into hysteria in the same way a man running from a tiger is aware that he is running towards a leopard – too desperate and terrified to stop.

“Yes, you are. M has decreed it, and you'll be fine.” Eve frowned. “Calm down. You're scaring me.”

Obediently, Tanner did not cackle madly and run out of M-branch. He'd only just arrived. He hadn't even had any coffee.

Tanner looked down at the children in mild terror. Q was hunched in on himself by Eve's feet, mop of untidy black hair flopping over his eyes. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and yet somehow the green-grey orbs looked even bigger. Bond was glaring at him. Tanner didn't know why he was surprised. Bond looked, in fundamentals, the same; fewer wrinkles lined his face, and the scar from an Indian bar fight behind his left ear was gone. Both children were wearing adult's shirts and no more, although someone had bundled Q in one of his ugly cardigans.

Tanner sighed heavily, unbuttoned his suit jacket and crouched. “Hello,” he said softly. “I'm Bill. What's your name?”

Bond stared at him guardedly. “James,” he said shortly.

“And how old are you, James?”

“Seven,” James said promptly. “How old are you?”

Tanner huffed a laugh. Nosy bugger; perfect spy. “Thirty four. What about you?” Tanner aimed at Q. “What's your name?”

Q shuffled awkwardly and whispered “Peter Q.”

“How old are you?”

“Four,” he said softly and shuffled forward until he was almost pressing against Tanner. “Who's she?”

Tanner looked up. “That's Eve.” Moneypenny looked a little unhappy that her best friend didn't recognise her, looking away sharply. Tanner sighed, and stood. “I suppose I can look after them. Come on, my office.”

Tanner collapsed into the chair behind his desk, watching the boys hesitantly take up a corner and whisper together, and gestured for Eve to take a seat. She looked stressed and tired like he'd never seen her, and he felt bad for shrieking hysterically at her. He reached out and squeezed her hand, smiling back apologetically when she offers him a tired smile of understanding. “I hate Mondays. What happened?”

She sighed. “Q-branch happened. They were working on a Fountain Of Youth as a-” she made finger quotations “-'pet project' and 007 was messing with Q, as per usual, and something went wrong.”

“Anyone else affected?” Tanner dragged empty forms towards him preemptively.

“A minion got a little bit, but James got the brunt of it. He's gone back thirty years, Tanner. Q's back twenty, the minion only one. Q-branch think it'll wear off – a few hours for the minion, but they're guessing five days for the boys.”

“Joy,” Tanner sighed. “Why did we ever let them be each other's next of kin? Someone needs to get them clothes, and beds – it'll be easier for them to stay in MI6 for security, so they'll need...christ...” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Can we get an M minion on that?”

“Yeah, I'll deal with that.” Eve stood.

“And please, please, can I have a vat of the strongest coffee you can find?”

* * *

Tanner realised that his tendency to go entirely silent and stare when thinking is probably unnerving. Usually, this suited him, but basically nothing was usual about his day.

The beds for the boys were moved into his office, they were both been kitted out in actual children's clothes and they had pyjamas and toiletries for a week. Q even had cardigans.

Bill was thinking hard about logistics and files and tests, all with an undercurrent of _ohgodtwosenioragentshavebecomechildrenandtheywereabloodyhandfulbefore._ This meant he was staring at the boys and frowning. He snapped out of it, realising that Q was looking increasingly concerned and James was bouncing on his toes in suppressed energy.

“Right,” Tanner said decisively, although he wasn't totally sure what he'd decided on. “What if...we get to know each other.” _Yes. Good plan, Bill._

“No,” Bond pouted. _Good start._

“Yes. It'll be fun. You tell me something, I'll tell you something. A trade.” A trade of information was not what what Tanner had wanted to go for; far too much like sharing.

“Okay,” Q said quietly.

Tanner sat on the floor and the boys congregated around him, Q curling up close to his knee and Bond just out of arm's reach. “Where do you live?” Tanner started.

“Skyfall,” James said proudly. “It's the biggest house ever.”

“Guildford,” Q whispered. “In a flat.”

James looked expectantly at Bill. “I live just round the corner, in a flat like you, Peter.”

“Who do you live with?” James said quickly.

Tanner held up a hand. “You first. Who do you live with?”

James shut up, so Q answered first. “Mummy. She works a lot, though.”

“James?” Tanner prompted, and the boy glared back at him. He was hunched over and his eyes were beginning to glisten with tears. Why would – oh. Shit. 007's file came slamming back to Tanner: age six, parents die in a climbing accident. “Never mind.” Bill tried to pass it off, but Q's eyes were burning with curiosity. “I live on my own. Next question; favourite food?”

Peter's was ice cream, James' was chips and Bill admitted his partiality to proper roast dinners. James liked cars and running and playing hide and seek (Tanner repressed a laugh at how little had changed), Peter liked reading and blanket forts and playing scrabble while Bill liked – what? He didn't have time for hobbies. He enjoyed getting off work in time to sleep properly. He enjoyed going drinking with Bond and Q and Eve. He liked doing nothing, for a change. Bill said something about reading and walking in the park, but he knew it sounded weak. James narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him, but Tanner continued on regardless and the moment passed.

Bill learnt a lot about the boys, and they start to trust him. Q edged closer and closer until Bill just picked him up and set him on his lap. Peter immediately wriggled in and pulled one of Tanner's arms around himself. James never quite got within reach, but he got more relaxed and open than he was at the start.

Eventually, though, Tanner knew they were getting bored. He lifted Peter off and got up, reaching out to take the four-year-old's hand. “Come on, then. Shall we have a look around?”

He opened the door to his office and Bond was off like a shot, running to Eve's desk and frowning at the screen of her computer. He still wasn't close to her, and Bill filed that under the information he was garnering on each boy. Q stayed very close, but hazarded a smile when Eve sent one his way. Bond badgered Eve for information on what she was doing or working on or her life, and Peter just took it all in.

The door to M's office opened, and the whole atmosphere changed as Mallory stepped out. Bond went silent, staring at M with deep suspicion, but it was Q's reaction that concerned Tanner most. The boy let go of Bill's hand in favour of wrapping both arms around his leg and burying his face in the fabric of Bill's trousers.

Bill turned slowly so that his back is to his boss and crouched, disentangling Peter's arms so that he could do so and looked straight at the boy. Q's view of M was blocked by Tanner, but the boy continued to stare balefully up at Tanner.

“Peter?” Bill said, rubbing his upper arms in a way he hoped was comforting.

“Who's that?” Q whispered, quieter than ever.

“That's M. He's my boss, but he's not bad,” Bill whispered back. “Do you want to say hello?”

Q pressed himself against Tanner's chest, wrapping his arms around Bill's neck. “Okay.”

Tanner lifted the boy – even for a four-year-old, Q was very small and light – and turned so that Q could see M from Bill's arms. And nearly burst out laughing.

Never, in all his years in espionage, had Bill seen any M look more hurt/slightly terrified. Mallory had frozen in place as soon as Q had spooked, so he was left mid-step like a child at musical statues. In fact, the entire room appeared to have stilled around them, giving Tanner the eerie feeling of being in a photo.

Mallory broke the spell by standing on both feet again, keeping both hands in view of the child. “Hello, Peter,” he said quietly.

Q turned his face into Tanner's neck, holding tightly to his lapels. Tanner sighed quietly. “James, why don't you say hello?”

James frowned from the other side of Eve's desk. “Hello,” he muttered, looking surly.

Mallory looked like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Moneypenny, can you arrange a few of those injury forms? They need to get to the relevant people before they can sue, if at all possible. Ensure that 008's handler is apprised of new information that may pop up, she's on a risky one. Oh, and someone has to chase down 009's mission report.” Mallory smiled thinly, and shut himself back in his office.

Eve sighed, and Tanner grinned. “Now you know what my job's like – all the time.”

“How do you get anything done?” Eve wailed.

“Coffee. Don't worry, I'll take the boys on a walk and I might just chase down the Shanghai report.” Tanner left the branch to Eve's muttering and the coffee machine whirring.

* * *

Q maintained his koala-like grip throughout the tour, while James had to be restrained from poking everything and everyone he saw. They dropped in on the double-ohs first and Tanner deposited James at 009's desk. He and Q watched with barely-concealed delight as the agent who had concealed state secrets from friend and foe alike, even under torture, was undone and stolen from by a very determined seven-year-old.

Eventually, Bill decided she'd suffered enough. “James, stop it. Go and bother someone else.”

James took off for a different agent, and 009 scrubbed a hand over her face. “The report will be on M's desk in half an hour, sir.”

Tanner grinned and turned to survey the chaos one small boy could cause in a room full of top-calibre agents. Correction, one small Bond.

001's desk was a scene of total calm; not entirely unexpected, Tanner had been on the receiving end of one of his glares. 003 had his head in his hands already, 005 was fielding small hands, feet and questions alike with a look of intense concentration and 004 was awaiting her turn with wide-eyed terror. Bill smiled.

Q patted Bill's chest lightly. “Can I look around?” he said hesitantly.

“If you like.” Bill placed the boy lightly on the floor and straightened.

Unlike James, Peter didn't hare off instantly, instead staying close to Tanner. He took some steps away to peer over 008's desk, then, looking back to Bill as if to check his presence, ran towards James.

Together, they bothered 005 – James continuing to ask questions while Q stood on tiptoes to push every button on the keyboard in turn. Eventually both boys were shooed away and Bond sprinted to 004's desk with a decidedly shark-like grin. Peter went to 002's empty desk instead, pulling himself up on her chair and looking over all the equipment on her desk. He tugged the keyboard towards him, pressing a button experimentally. Tanner knew the screen had turned on by the glow on the boy's surprised face. Peter pressed more buttons, grinning at the tapping noise it made and the small dots presumably appearing in the login bar. He progressed in speed and confidence, until he was simply keyboard smashing with a look of utter delight. Apparently, computers were a lifelong thing for Q.

002 entered then, standing by Tanner's shoulder to gaze upon the destruction. “Usually I'd be delighted to have Q work on my computer personally, but I fear his methods are a little unorthodox today and he may have locked me out,” the agent said dryly.

Tanner smirked. “Perhaps youth is a guarantee of innovation.”

002 laughed. She'd been on Q's security detail when he and Bond first met, and Tanner had read the reports. “I'll run interception. Don't expect a report.”

Bill shook his head, smiling. He liked 002; she was funny, and one of the only double-ohs who actually filed reports and paperwork on time. He watched her walk over to Q, who looked instantly guilty, and take the keyboard away long enough to log in and set up a word document for him to type to his heart's content. She sat in a spare chair to write a report and, when she spotted Tanner still standing by the door and watching, mouthed “We've got this” and made shooing motions with her hands.

He rolled his eyes, tapping his watch and holding up one finger. One hour. She held up a hand in the “okay” symbol and he turned and left. He had paperwork to file, and M needed the information from last night's UN summit, as there were some concerning statements made by a few countries, even if he hadn't asked Eve for it. Even if M didn't know he needed it yet.

* * *

Precisely an hour later, he re-entered the double-ohs' area. 005, 009 and Bond were playing a very enthusiastic and competitive game of tag, and when she spotted Tanner 009 screamed “Moneypenny has my report! Tag!” Tanner looked across the room to 002, 004 and Q staring at the computer screen.

“What if we play 'untied'?” 004 hazarded, frowning.

Peter shook his head. “'United' puts t on a triple letter score, which is better.” He looked up. “Bill!”

Tanner grinned, almost missing the _what-the-hell-who's-bill_ that flashed across 004's face. “Hey. You had fun?”

Q nodded quickly, wriggling off the chair and bounding across the floor to hug Bill's knees. James quickly jogged over. “Hungry. Can we eat now?”

The double-ohs looked a bit hopeful. Tanner drew it out, before ruffling James' hair. “Yeah, okay. What do you want?”

“McDonalds,” Peter said promptly, before James could even open his mouth.

“Done,” Bill said. “I'll just get my coat.” _And a gun. I am my own security detail._

* * *

The sight of a four-year-old Q grinning up at Bill through a large mouthful of chicken nuggets and ketchup would probably stay with him forever. Cute, but also a little gross. James had inhaled all his chips and two sachets of ketchup by the time Tanner had eaten half his burger, which was impressive, but got quite a lot of salt and sauce over his hands and there was a blob of ketchup on his cheek which he didn't appear to have noticed. Not one to miss an opportunity, Tanner snapped photos of both on his phone and sent them to Eve.

“Hey!” James said.

Tanner gave in to a strong temptation, which he fought almost daily, and stuck out his tongue at the boy. Q started giggling so hard Bill had to stop him falling off his chair, and James looked like he was suppressing a laugh too.

Post-meal, when Bill had forced James to actually drink the orange juice that had been ordered in favour of the large Coke the boy had actually wanted and Q had been wiped down with a napkin, the boys decided they needed the toilet.

Frankly, Bill should have been surprised that this didn't happen earlier. But it was okay, there are toilets in every McDonalds.

James barrelled into a cubicle, while Q picked one carefully two doors down. _Wait,_ Tanner thought. _Do four-year-olds require assistance? How do you even_ give _assistance?_ “Peter, do you need...” Bill began.

Q stuck his head out of the door, giving the most recognisable expression Tanner has seen him give as a child. In a strange way, the Quartermaster's bitchface was comfortingly familiar, and Tanner sighed in relief.

James then stuck his head out, looking a little embarrassed. “Idon'wannalockthedoor,” he mumbled.

 _After the death of his parents, locked himself away for months and got stuck. Left with mild claustrophobia._ Tanner nodded. “Okay, I can have my foot under it and you can let me know when you want to get out.”

James disappeared back inside and Bill obediently stuck his toes under the cubicle door, leaning back on his heel. Q fiddled with his jumper, and Bill knew.

“You too?” he sighed. Q nodded urgently and Tanner nodded.

Q pushed the door shut behind him and Tanner stretched out his leg to tuck it under the door – which was two doors down. Tanner sighed again. He had the sneaking suspicion that this was the most flexible he'd ever had to be, and it was holding cubicle doors shut for small children – not, you know, anything to do with his highly dangerous line of work.

Another bloke came in, saw Tanner's position and laughed. “Your kids trouble, huh?”

“They aren't – well – it's complicated,” Bill sighed.

“Whatever; handful, are they?” the guy said.

Tanner raises his eyebrows. “Not as bad as you'd think, actually.” There was a crash from behind James' door. “James Bond what have you done,” Bill said sharply to the door.

“You can let go now?” James said hesitantly. Bill let the door open to where James was, toilet roll holder balanced precariously on the cistern. He grinned hopefully. Bill stared down at him. “Sorry,” James muttered, pushing past to wash his hands.

The other guy was grinning at him. “I swear, they do it on purpose,” Bill groused.

* * *

Back at MI6, Tanner took the boys down to the gym. They changed into appropriate clothes and Bill took them through the easiest assault course. Q excelled at the crawling sections, giggling all the way through the tunnels and under nets that he was the perfect size for. James ran and climbed with a single-minded determination rarely seen in humans who don't carry the name Bond, and Tanner kept up easily to lift Q over walls and catch James before he fell six foot into mud.

After, they played increasingly competitive rounds of hide and seek in the assault courses, with off-duty agents joining in whenever they wanted. By the end of the four hours spent in the gym, there were teams, scoreboards and possibly an illicit betting pool. Tanner didn't care, because he, James and Q were wiping the floor with the junior agents.

When Q started to yawn and even James got slower, Tanner called a halt, backed his team out of the running and herded the boys into the showers. Bill allowed the water to bash the aches and sweat out of his muscles, before drying off and redressing. James had dressed and was shaking the water out of his hair like a dog, while Q had one arm through an armhole of his jumper, the other arm hanging out of the neckhole and was making a whining noise. Bill rearranged the jumper, making all the appropriate 'pop' noises when limbs appeared to make the child smile.

Hand in hand with both of them, Bill walked them back to his office and mused on his day. It had been rather unexpected, but he'd almost gotten used to the idea of caring for them. James had started to trust him, and would actually seek out touch during the afternoon. Bill was a little surprised at how happy that made him.

Back in his office, Tanner sat behind his desk and woke up his computer. Peter reached his arms up towards him expectantly. “You want to come up?” Q nodded. “Fine,” Bill huffed, holding the boy against his chest while he logged in. Peter curled up, nestling his head beneath Tanner's chin and watching the screen. James climbed on to the arm of the chair by putting his elbows and knees into every soft bit of flesh Tanner had on the right side of his body, wriggling and kicking him so that one of Bill's arms had to wrap around the boy to reach the mouse. Tanner glared at him, but James responded by sticking out an unrepentant tongue.

* * *

“Tanner!” M yelled. Nothing. He hit the intercom and tried again, but all he got in response was a few bursts of static. It wasn't Morse code – unless what Tanner really needed to secretly tell him was UMQRA – but Mallory wasn't sure what it was.

Eve was typing at her desk. “Have you seen Tanner?”

She pointed at his office door. “He hasn't come out of there.”

Mallory opened the door cautiously, hand on his gun holster. Inside explained a lot about the lack of response. Peter was still curled up on Tanner's chest, but now with his eyes shut and snoring softly. The main noise was coming from Tanner, who had his head tipped back, one arm around Q and the other around Bond, and was snoring. Bond was sitting on the arm of the chair, tapping rhythms onto Tanner's chest and the intercom system alternately and yawning widely.

Mallory relaxed in the door frame and sighed. He walked silently into the room and reached out. James understood his meaning and allowed himself to be lifted off the chair and into his bed. The boy pulled the cover up and instantly fell asleep.

Gently, Mallory extracted Peter from beneath Bill's arm, feeling outrageously proud when he got Q into his bed without waking either person. For Bill, M just pulled out a blanket from a draw in Tanner's desk. Eve had put it there after one too many nights when Tanner wouldn't go home. M looked over his work and smiled softly, before turning back to the door and dimming the lights and leaving them in peace.

* * *

“Focus on the objective, please,” Mallory was saying as Tanner burst into one of the monitoring offices where Eve had directed him. M was standing in front of the screen, one arm across his chest and the other pointing at an area of the map. Peter had been armed with a tablet, placed on a table and shown the joys of Candy Crush, but still spared a bright grin for Bill upon his entry. James was literally climbing the walls; he was halfway up one of the sash windows using the curtains for grip. Bill sighed in part relief, part exasperation.

“We can't afford to lose this chance, 008,” M said, and Bill could read in the tense lines of his jaw that something was going wrong. There was a burst of gunfire over the comms.

Tanner took up a spare computer, searching for alternative options for the agent. “008, take a left at this junction,” he said shortly, following both markers through the maze of alleys, mark and agent.

“Taken,” 008 spat. “Now what?”

“Left again,” M said.

“Then a right,” Tanner finished.

“Understood.”

The mission was finished with the minimum of stress from there on. M sighed, and turned to Tanner with a wry smile. “I'd banked on you getting at least three hours more sleep, you know. Should have known that the possibility of work would have woken you up.”

“Also, you know, taking away the small humans I'd been tasked with looking after?” Tanner stretched, grimacing. “Bit worrying in this business.”

M snickered. “How domestic.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. “You and Eve would fight for my head.”

“Conceded,” M said. “Still, four hours is pretty good for you.”

“Thank you, sir.” Bill stood and peeled James off the wall. “I'll take them out for the afternoon, if you don't mind.”

* * *

“Remind me how this happened,” Bill said as M drove them all to the nearest supermarket.

Eve spun in the passenger seat to turn her phone on him. “We all needed to get out of the office, so we're going to cook with the kids. We need ingredients. Therefore, most heavily armed shopping trip ever.”

Bill didn't make a comment about the British Empire's invasion of, well, most of the world, as his history jokes were notoriously under-appreciated, and settled for “Why are you filming it, though?”

Eve shrugged. “Blackmail?”

“Against whom?” Bill frowned, and Eve grinned in a shark-like fashion. He sighed.

Inside the supermarket wasn't much better. James and Peter decided that what they desperately wanted to cook was an unholy combination of chips, custard, bacon and ice cream. Together. Even Eve was looking a little worried about her plan.

Peter dictated from the safety of his trolley throne, while James grabbed packets indiscriminately and flung them into the trolley. Eve filmed, Bill pushed and M took care of the high shelves. It was weirdly fun, and when M snorted at one of Bill's worst puns, Tanner made a mental reminder to add him to their Thursday night take-away, poker and alcohol evenings.

“I want Haribo!” Peter declared loudly, pointing down at the sweets regally. “The bears. And cola bottles.” James grabbed cherries, and Q pouted. “Not them. Bears.”

James didn't listen, and Q got increasingly upset until M leant over and picked out the correct bags, holding them out to Q for inspection. Bill held his breath. Peter still didn't really trust M, for reasons still unknown, but it appeared that Haribo was the way towards a stable relationship for their baby Quartermaster. He nodded, and M smiled and dropped them in the trolley.

Eve and Mallory went to get actually useful things, so Bill chased James around the mostly-empty supermarket with the trolley, making whooshing noises as they took corners with increasing speed. Peter giggled like a tiny evil genius (not far from the truth) each time, and James was laughing almost too hard to run. They took another corner and James barrelled into M's legs. Bill braked better than expected, considering that the trolley had no brakes and at least one dodgy wheel, and only nearly took out his boss, a small child and half of the curry sauce aisle. Peter thought it was hilarious, and, as Eve had captured his face on camera, she was inclined to agree.

“Sorry?” Bill and James said together. There was a tense silence as they waited for his reaction until Mallory laughed, full bodied and genuine. Maybe Eve had been right – they did need to get out of the office.

The checkout went mostly without a hitch; M removed their purchases from the trolley and put them on the conveyor belt, Tanner bagged them at the other end, and James, Peter and Eve got in the way. At one point, Q nearly got bought when he clambered onto the conveyor belt and giggled every time it jerked along.

“You the parents?” the cashier, a fifty-something woman with a distinctly motherly feel, asked Eve and Bill.

“Oh, no,” Eve said quickly. “Fun aunt.” She grinned, and the cashier fawned and smiled, before looking expectantly at Bill and Mallory.

“Um – we're not – uh,” Tanner said eloquently. Eve, the bitch, cackled.

“Oh, it's alright, it's all fine nowadays,” she said.

“No – I mean, yes, it'd be fine if we were, but we aren't.” Bill looked desperately at Mallory for help; none was forthcoming.

“Your secret's safe with me.” She winked conspiratorially, and Bill sighed.

Eve was laughing so hard she couldn't hold the camera straight, but Bill was saved by James. “Bill! Can we go now?”

“Yup.” Bill said with not very forced brightness – he badly wanted to leave too. “Just as soon as we've paid.” He turned a manic, evil smile on M, and had the pleasure of seeing him lean back slightly with a flicker of panic. “You'll get this, won't you, _darling?_ ”

“Thanks,” Mallory said as they pushed the trolley containing James, Peter and all the shopping towards the car.

“Thanks? Didn't see you helping earlier.” Bill had decided that they were exceedingly off-duty and had therefore gained the right to say what he liked.

“It would have worked as a cover,” M said simply, and Tanner wished that his boss wasn't right.

* * *

They returned to Tanner's flat, on the grounds that it was closer to MI6 than Eve's and M hadn't been forthcoming with his address. The boys tumbled through the door, rushing about and poking things.

“Kitchen,” Bill said sternly, pointing at the correct door as James looked close to entering his bedroom. Only actual parents should have the joy of a small child going through their things.

Eve, still filming, dumped some of the bags on Bill's island and knelt to interview the boys. “And what are we cooking today, chefs?”

Mallory put the rest of the bags on the island and helped Bill clear a space for the inevitable mess.

“Chips and Haribo in custard with bacon ice cream,” James said proudly and Q nodded, grinning.

“Adventurous,” Eve said. “What's first?”

“Cook the chips,” Peter said. “That's what Mummy does first at home.”

With the boys balanced on bar stools at Tanner's island, Bill pulled out a roasting dish and gave them the chip bag to shake into the tray. Peter took on his task with immense gusto and hit M in the eyebrow with a low flying frozen chip, but didn't appear to notice.

“How much of that did you get on camera?” Mallory said in a low voice to Eve.

“All of it,” Eve said proudly.

Mallory sighed. “I don't suppose-”

“Don't do it, Eve! Be strong!” Tanner called from across the room where he was attempting riot control.

“For love nor money, sir,” Eve grinned. Mallory sighed, but smiled.

With the chips in the oven and the timer set and gripped in Peter's hands, they moved on to bacon ice cream.

“How does one even make bacon ice cream?” Mallory asked.

“Look it up,” Bill said from within one of his cupboards. “Aha.” He re-emerged with a blue plastic ball. “I knew this would be useful at some point.”

M frowned at his phone. “It says we have to candy it. Do you have maple syrup?”

“Uhh...” Tanner frowned. “I have golden syrup?”

Mallory shrugged. “It'll do. Okay chaps, spread the golden syrup on the bacon.”

Maybe it went perfectly. Maybe most of the golden syrup went in Peter's mouth and hair, the rest transferring itself to James' hands, Tanner's shirt and, somehow, Mallory's face. Who knows.

“Now, we have to bake it,” M said, attempting dignity while cleaning syrup off his cheek.

It went in the oven and Bill, James and Peter made the ice cream mixture while Mallory watched the bacon. The gooey meat was removed, cut up and mixed in and the whole thing went in the plastic ball which sealed tightly with some ice.

“M – think fast,” Bill said and threw the ball at M's head.

He caught it, glaring at Bill. “I assume this isn't some convoluted assassination attempt?”

“Yes, because he'd really say 'think fast' before trying to kill you.” Eve rolled her eyes. “That's how you make the ice cream – throwing it around.”

“Pass it here!” James yelled, and M dubiously threw the ball at him. James caught it and flung it Bill, who rolled it to Peter. Q waited until Eve had set up her phone so it would continue filming and she could catch, before throwing it to her.

The throwing got faster and more violent until Mallory threw it directly at Tanner's head unexpectedly and it bounced off his temple and into his hands. “Ow, shi-”

“Tanner, that's a no-no word,” Eve cut across him. Bill glared daggers at her while James and Peter howled with laughter. Even M looked like he was suppressing chuckles. “These children are impressionable.”

“They play hide and seek with senior agents who bet on the outcome,” Bill complained, rubbing his temple. “That hurt. I think it's done, though.”

It was put in the freezer and the timer went off for the chips. James and Peter set up plates and bowls, while Eve put the Haribo into condiment bowls and M warmed up the custard. Bill served the chips onto plates and put the messy stuff in the sink.

They sat around the table, each with a plate of chips. The bowl of custard was in the middle and the Haribo dishes were spread over the table.

James grabbed a chip and dipped it in the custard and Peter followed suit. Eve held up the camera. They both stuck out their tongues. “Blech,” Peter said eloquently.

“Bill, you try!” James grinned.

Tanner sighed. Mallory raised an eyebrow at him in silent challenge. Bill smirked, picked up a chip, dipped it and ate it whole. M looked a little surprised. “It's lovely,” Bill smiled down at the boys, who beamed at the praise.

No one had any more custard and chips, preferring to eat them separately, but the meal was mostly a success. The Haribo and custard combination was eaten with great gusto by both children and Mallory, so Eve and Bill nicked their boss' chips and finished Peter's.

The ice cream was retrieved from the freezer and dished up and did, in fact, taste pretty good. There was quite a lot left, but Tanner decided he'd refreeze it and eat it later.

He should have known the tidying up process wouldn't have gone so smoothly. M had rolled his shirtsleeves up and was washing up very efficiently – Bill didn't think the saucepan had been as clean when he'd bought it as it was now. Eve was filming, James was drying and Peter was shuttling things from the table to M for washing or to Bill for putting away. Everything went quite well, until Peter tripped while holding the ice cream and ended up on the floor in a puddle of ice cream and crying.

“Peter!” Bill ran across his kitchen, skidded in the puddle and slammed down on his arse next to the child. “Peter! Are you okay, where does it hurt?” Q climbed into Tanner's lap and sobbed into his chest, safe in the circle of Tanner's arms. “Shush, shush, all right now, all right,” Bill soothed, rubbing circles into his back. “It's okay. It's okay.”

“Sorry about your ice cream,” Peter choked out.

“Don't worry about that,” Bill said instantly. “It doesn't matter.”

“But you fell over.”

Bill shook his head. “Nah, I meant to do that.” Peter managed a laugh at that. “We may need to get a bit cleaner, though, there's bacon in your hair.”

* * *

Bill collapsed on his sofa, in new clothes that weren't covered in melted ice cream and tears, and closed his eyes.

“I hope you're not going to sleep again, I want you to appreciate the fact that I've cleaned your floor.”

Bill's eyes snapped open. “You didn't have to.”

Mallory was smirking in the doorway connecting the kitchen to the living room. “Consider it my thanks. For a good afternoon, helping run MI6, and giving me permission to open a bottle of your red wine.” M waved a bottle and three glasses.

Bill frowned. “I didn't-”

“Consider it payback for the paintball game you manipulated me into authorising.” M poured the wine, handed one to Tanner and sat on the armchair opposite him.

“In my defence, it did improve teamwork and the yelling you did afterwards improved productivity.”

M chuckled. “Where's Eve?”

“She's tackling bath time. I'll look exhausted and close to tears more often if it means she takes the hard jobs.” Bill grinned.

“Staff manipulation is against protocol,” M said flatly.

Bill frowned. “Manipulation is against protocol? In an espionage organisation? Who wrote the protocols?”

M raised his eyebrows. “I have no idea.”

Eve entered then, looking frazzled and splashed. “Fuck you, Bill Tanner.”

“Now who's using no-no words,” Bill said drily, and Eve glared at him. “Was bath time fun?”

“Joyous.” She grabbed her glass, drained half of it and collapsed next to Bill, flicking her legs up into his lap. He began to massage her toes and she groaned happily.

“Am I interrupting?” Mallory raised his eyebrows. “I can go.”

“Miss Moneypenny should wear less ridiculous heels,” Bill said.

“Miss Moneypenny shall wear less ridiculous heels when she is dead,” Eve parroted. “I can't put big knives in small heels, anyway, and you can't castrate anyone with tennis shoes.”

“This is fairly common,” Bill said as M raised an eyebrow. “Where are the boys?”

“Sleeping. Your bed is very comfortable, apparently.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “You volunteered to take the job; forcing me out of my own bed is just cruel.”

Eve grinned. “And yet. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow.” She swung her legs off and stood. “Do you want a lift back to MI6, sir?”

“I'll be right with you,” Mallory said languidly. Eve put on her killer heels and swung her coat over her shoulders. M pushed himself to his feet and rolled down his sleeves, putting on his jacket and tugging his cufflinks. “Tomorrow, Tanner.”

“Sir.” Bill showed them out and watched them into the SUV from his window. Once he was sure they weren't hijacked, he headed into his room.

Curled up on the left side of the bed, foreheads touching, were James and Peter. They were breathing in tandem, lifting the duvet rhythmically and slowly with sleep.

Tanner changed into pyjamas, brushed his teeth and prepared himself for a night on the sofa. However, when he re-entered his room, he ended up fluffing his pillow instead of removing it from the bed and, instead of finding new bedcovers and retreating to his living room, he curled up beneath his own duvet. His bed was a large one and the boys were clearly happy on their half of it. Bill closed his eyes and prayed that he wouldn't flail around in his sleep and crush them.

* * *

Tanner was woken by three things at once: James shaking his arm, a vibration at his wrist and a bolt of fear.

“Bill – I think there's someone in here,” James whispered. Even in the gloom, Bill could see the whites of his eyes.

He tapped the black band around his wrist, stopping the vibration. “Yes, there is,” Bill whispered back calmly. James looked like he wasn't sure whether he should be comforted by his tone or scared by his words. Bill shook Peter awake, putting a finger over the boy's lips to quiet him. “I need you two to stay very quiet and get under the bed. Don't move, don't talk.” Bill stood as the boys wriggled under the bed, Peter shivering and gripping James' hand tightly. He lifted his pillow and wrapped his fingers around the gun there, watching the lights flash green to confirm his handprint. He crouched to look at the boys and passed them the black wristband. “If I'm not back, this will call M and he'll come and get you, okay? Stay here.”

Bill felt a bit weird without the band – it alerted him to any and all security breaches by vibrating and it could call MI6 automatically if he didn't turn it off. He always wore it. Shaking off his unease, he adjusted his grip on the gun and opened his door.

Tanner kept his back to his door, watching for movement and guarding the only entrance to where the boys hid. He heard the floorboard in his kitchen creak and silently stepped that way, never losing sight of the bedroom door.

Luckily the kitchen door was open, torchlight from the intruder spilling out into the hallway and giving him perfect access to the man rifling through his kitchen drawers. Bill stepped up behind him and raised the butt of his gun. Calmly, Tanner cleared his throat. The man spun, eyes wide in fear, and Bill slammed the gun into the man's temple. With a sharp crack and a thud, the man collapsed, unconscious, to the ground.

Bill hastened back towards his room, just fast enough to watch another lithe figure enter it. He leapt forward, grabbing the doorframe to swing around faster and, as the woman knelt to point her knife at wide-eyed James and silently sobbing Peter, Tanner put a bullet in her back.

Bill threw himself at the floor next to the bed in his desperation to see the boys. As soon as his face appeared under the mattress, both boys hurled themselves forward, slamming into his chest. He wrapped his arms around them both and rocked them, hushing the boys as best he could.

Bill didn't know how long he sat there, clinging to James and Peter and maintaining a grip on his gun. He'd forgotten that the band would call for re-enforcements if not cancelled, so when Mallory entered, Tanner got very close to shooting him.

M threw up his hands instantly. “Bill, calm down.”

Bill's previously steady hand began to shake and he dropped the gun. “Sorry sir.”

Mallory crouched. “It's understandable. We're going to take you all back to MI6, although it seems like you handled this one.”

Bill looked closer at Mallory. To a casual observer, the man looked perfectly calm, but Bill had worked too closely with him for that. There was stress behind his eyes and in the set of his jaw; Bill didn't usually allow his security to alert MI6 in the middle of the night. Usually, Tanner would knock the intruder out and request assistance to bring them in the next morning. The intruders knew about Bond and Q, and where they were that night.

Tanner looked directly into Mallory's eyes. “Mole, sir.” He said simply.

His boss scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “Probably. And, for now, Gareth will do.” He gestured self-deprecatingly at himself. “I can't be sir dressed like this.” Mallory was wearing black slacks, a rumpled white shirt over a brown Mumford and Sons t-shirt and a hoodie was slung over his arm.

“Gareth,” Bill agrees.

Both boys had fallen asleep in his lap and he allowed Gareth to collect James up in his arms and help Bill to his feet without waking Peter.

They returned to MI6 without either child waking, although Bill refused to allow Peter to be taken from him and insisted on sitting next to James for the whole journey. The team sent to collect them and the intruders looked at Mallory, who nodded, and let them be.

Eve ran up as soon as they got in through the door. “Bill! Oh my God, are you okay? James? Peter?”

Bill had the disconcerting feeling of his throat closing up. His hold on Peter tightened and he compulsively checked on James, curled against Gareth's chest. “All fine,” M said, taking the focus off Bill. Eve's gaze went to Mallory and Bill felt like he could breathe again.

He realised that Gareth and Eve were looking at him with concern. “What?” he snapped.

“I said, let's get the children to bed,” Gareth repeated, something like sympathy in his voice. Bill hated it.

“Yes. Let's,” Bill spat, biting and sharp. He span on his heel and strode towards his office, somewhat breaking the moment by checking back to ensure that Mallory was not going to take James away from him. Thankfully, M was only a few steps behind.

Inside Tanner's office, Bill laid Peter in his bed and tucked him in tightly. He took James from Gareth, who seemed to appreciate Bill's need to check on them both. It grated, for reasons Bill didn't quite understand. James was tucked under his covers and Bill smoothed back his hair from his forehead, fringe slightly longer than Bond's as an adult.

Bill turned back and sat at his desk. Mallory was still leaning against the doorframe, and that grated too.

He pulled a folder towards him across his desk, grabbing a pen and opening it to disguise his irritation. He glanced at the boys.

Mallory cleared his throat.

“Sir?” Bill turned to him.

M simply stared at him.

“What?” Bill said sharply. “What is it? Just because someone broke into my house – that doesn't mean – I'm not fucking fragile, okay?” At some point, Tanner had stood up and was pointing at M's chest. “I don't want your sympathy. I don't need it.”

“Tanner,” Mallory said simply.

Bill grimaced cruelly. “No, no, no, shut up. Shut up.”

“Tanner. Bill. Listen to me,” Mallory said over him. “Bill, look, your hands are shaking.”

Bill looked down at the hand gesturing at Mallory. It juddered and shivered. “I don't – my hands don't – my hands don't shake.” Tanner stared at them stupidly. “My hands don't shake.”

“Bill.” Mallory gripped Bill's upper arms. “You're having a panic attack. That's okay. Happens to us all.” Bill glanced at James and Peter and back to M.

Bill looked at him with utter panic. “I didn't – I didn't want this. I can't look after them, I don't know how, and then I nearly got them killed and I don't...I can't. I can't.” Bill realised he was crying, but Mallory – Gareth – was still holding his arms, and he could see the boys and he began to calm down. “Sorry.” He wiped his eyes furiously.

“Not at all,” Gareth said calmly. “You should have seen me when I found out I was the next M.” Bill gasped a small laugh, but it sounded more like a sob.

Bill sat with James and Peter until the sunrise slanted golden beams across his desk.

* * *

Eve, some double-ohs and occasionally M got custody of the boys for the day, so Tanner caught up on work he should have done yesterday while he was sleeping or when he was cooking. Every so often, he checked the feed from the security cameras in whichever room James and Peter were in or called whichever adult they were with. At lunch Eve brought the boys to pick him up and they hit the canteen together. James was a little disappointed that they weren't going to McDonalds again, but Peter clearly didn't want to go out of MI6 any time soon.

They ate at the canteen again at dinner and James and Peter returned to their beds in Tanner's office.

The next day also passed in this way, with Bill's panics becoming less frequent. In the morning, the boys were permitted into Q-branch, with threats of if-they-get-hurt-I'll-kill-you-and-make-it-look-like-an-accident from Bill, Eve and Gareth hanging over R's head. The boys had a great time, running around and pressing buttons to help test the least dangerous pieces of equipment. Each was armed with a short-range radio and a tracking device and tested the sound quality with great enthusiasm. When James got a small cut on his palm R actually grovelled at Bill's feet.

Half way through the morning, Mallory collected Bill from his office. “Are the boys okay?”

“Just fine. This is about Tuesday night,” M said tensely. He lead Tanner down to their maximum security cells and stood in front of the man that Tanner had knocked out. Tanner felt his anger rising.

The man grinned manically at Bill. “Thanks awfully for the headache, old chap. Perhaps we could talk it over with scones and tea.” His voice was a parody of a British accent which failed to hide the original.

Bill turned to M. “Scandinavian?” M nodded and Tanner turned back to the blond man. “Who do you work for?”

“A group bigger than yours.” The man leant against the glass face-on to Tanner, fingers splayed against the surface. “Much bigger.”

“Good to hear,” Tanner said calmly. “Why were you in my house?”

“It's a very nice house. And you are so annoying, and your children; so cute. Too cute to live.”

“And yet, I'm still here. So are the boys. Your partner couldn't make it, unfortunately.”

The man's face suddenly twisted into a feral snarl of anger. “You killed her! You bastard, I will destroy you!”

Tanner raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I did kill her, yes. She was sloppy; didn't see me coming. Admittedly, neither did you. The only reason you are alive now is because he-” Tanner gestured at M. “-is allowing it. Otherwise, I would kill you too. I'm not becoming any less inclined to do so. Start talking. Who is the mole?” The man growled and pushed himself back off the glass, turning away. “Who is it?” No answer. “ _Who?_ ” Tanner yelled, calm exterior breaking.

“You care so much,” The man said sadly. “Too much for your job, some say. I think we are similar in this.” He looked straight into Tanner's eyes. “The mole will be dead by this evening for being part of a failed operation. You see now how big we are – she is replaceable. So am I.” The man shook his head. “Spectre. I work for Spectre. Send me out of here and I will die.”

Tanner nodded at him briefly and turned to M. “Your call. I don't want to have any more to do with him either way.”

* * *

That afternoon they played hide and seek again, the repeating process of hiding and finding helping to clear Tanner's head. Afterwards James, Peter, Bill, Eve and Gareth took on the junior agents in a Nerf gun war. James actually took out agents, while Peter shot anyone indiscriminately and howled with laughter. Gareth was the sole survivor of the battle, although Bill and Eve were convinced that it was due to the luck of not being near Peter and no-one wanting to shoot their boss. Bill and Eve shot him in the head to make up for it.

At night, Peter had nightmares. He woke up sweating and crying, found his way to M's office where Bill, M and Eve were, and was eventually rocked to sleep on Bill's lap. A little later James cracked the door open and sneaked in, sitting on Gareth's lap and citing concern for Peter as his reason for being awake. The way he fell asleep and jerked awake with wide eyes a little later made Gareth tighten his hold on James, but no-one said anything.

* * *

The next morning held a conference on the Spectre threat for M, Tanner and Moneypenny, which James and Peter were allowed to sit in on if they were quiet. The three of them sat around the table with all the other dignitaries in the conference room, dubbed so universally as 'The War Room' that Q had once asked for directions to the conference room in his third year at MI6.

“This Spectre threat you speak of is nothing,” France declared.

“Little more than, aha, a spectre,” Spain agreed.

“We have had threats on the lives of agents,” M protested. “The attackers confessed to being Spectre employees, and claimed the mole that informed them would be dead by the evening, and she was. The information adds up.”

“But you have no evidence,” America waved a hand languidly.

“I have given you evidence,” M said with barely-concealed irritation.

“That is nothing. He could have been a common thief with great pretences.”

“Who happens to know the name of a secret organisation? And the home address of an MI6 high-up who was caring for two valuable assets?” Canada frowned. “I think it unlikely.”

“Speaking of those assets,” Belgium piped up. “That they are in their current condition is very irregular and should be looked into.”

James and Peter appeared to realise they were under discussion and looked up. James glared at the dignitaries while Peter looked curiously at Bill.

“Questions could be asked about your leadership, M,” Italy said. “You haven't held the position long, and that inquest for your predecessor...”

“My predecessor was an honourable woman and you, who did not know her or how hard she fought for her country and the world, have no right to comment,” M snapped. “My organisation is my own. He who has no guilt may throw the first stone.” He eyeballed the others, who became vastly quieter. M sat back in his seat. “Spectre is a threat. And if you can't see it, MI6 will work without you.”

America stood. “If that's all.”

“It is.” As soon as M left his chair, the floor juddered, knocking many to their feet. M grabbed the table. “What the fuck was that?”

“No-no word.” Bill noted absently as the far side of the War Room burst into flame.

* * *

Most of the officials were screaming for their security details. Most of the silent ones were likely to remain that way.

Tanner snapped into action. “M, get out of here.”

“No, you get James and Peter and go.” Mallory was about to head for the carnage.

“In an emergency I outrank you. Eve, Gareth, get out of here with the boys.”

Eve nodded, eyes hardened. “Sir.” She grabbed Mallory's arm and scooped a terrified Peter off the floor. She passed him to Gareth and produced her gun from somewhere inside her clutch purse. “I can't see James.”

“I'll get him – go.” There was another explosion and they ran. Bill vaulted over the table and ran towards the fire. He found another charge and ripped out the wires. It was a shoddily-done bomb, so nothing happened. He spun, looking under the table.

James was sitting and watching the flames. Bill crawled under next to him.

“James, we have to go.”

“Did it hurt my parents, when they died?” James said simply. He gestured to the site of the explosion, as if explaining. “They were screaming, the people in the fire.”

Bill sighed. “No. It didn't hurt them. It was quick, apparently.” James nodded, blinking back tears. “Come on.”

Bill pulled James out from under the table, lifting him to his chest. He ran to the door, keeping his back to the fire. There was a surge of heat and a huge bang before everything went quiet and tinny and his back felt strange. Bill sprinted to M's office, where Eve, Gareth and Peter were barricaded in.

They burst through the door and slammed it. James dropped to the floor and curled up with Peter. Bill watched Gareth's mouth move, the room oddly silent.

“What?” he said, quiet to his own ears.

He read 'hurt' on Gareth's lips and panic in Eve's expression. Bill was so tired, and now his back hurt properly, lashes of white-hot pain ripping across his skin. He had been hurt in the last explosion; adrenaline must have numbed the pain. His hearing was likely shot to bits, too.

“Oh,” he said simply, and everything went black. 

* * *

Waking up in the medical wing was always unpleasant. Bill had experienced it rarely, but the bright whites, strong disinfectant smell and dry throat that always seemed to accompany his trips here stayed with him.

Bill blinked away the fuzz that clouded his vision as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the outside world. He looked around him. Eve was in a chair by his bedside, eyes shut. He wasn't sure if she was sleeping, but the black shadows under her eyes suggested that she should be. On his other side was Gareth, folder open on his lap and stern gaze focused on the papers within.

Bill closed his eyes again, shifting under his covers, but the slight movements sent racking coughs through his body. His eyes streamed as he fought to get smoke out of his lungs, curving painfully forward and sending horrible slashes of pain through his back.

Hands supported him, carefully away from the bandages probably wrapping around all of his back. When he stopped coughing, they lowered him gently back onto the sheets.

Bill rubbed his eyes and smiled weakly at Eve and Gareth. “I didn't mean to wake you,” he said to Eve.

Eve sighed and smiled, pushing back her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Hurts.” Tanner frowned. “But I also feel pretty dopey, so it's not as bad as it could be, right?” He pointed at his ear. “Plus, I can hear.”

“Optimist.” Gareth gave a rare grin. “We were worried for a while.”

“How long have I been out?”

Eve checked the clock. “Three hours.”

Bill sighed, eyes fluttering shut. They snapped open. “James and Peter.”

“Disgustingly healthy,” Eve grinned. “They want to play hide and seek with you.”

“Can they wait?” Bill smiled.

“They're trying, at least,” Mallory said. “They want to see you, though.” Bill started to nod but Gareth held up a hand. “Only if it won't hurt you.”

“I'll be fine,” Bill said.

James and Peter burst through the door at the first opportunity. “Bill!” Peter shrieked. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“A little bit,” he said. “I'll be okay.” James stood by Bill's shoulder, looking unhappy. “Hey. I'll be okay.”

James twisted his fingers together. “It's my fault. You were trying to get me out when you got hurt.”

“No,” Bill said instantly, and James looked down. “Look at me.” The boy obeyed, and Tanner could see the guilt in his eyes. “This is not your fault. Never your fault. I would have been in there anyway. If anything, you got me out faster.” James nodded. “Come here.”

James scrabbled onto the bed and rested his head on Bill's stomach. Peter launched himself from where he had settled on Eve's lap and burrowed his face into the space next to James' head. Bill smiled to himself and stroked their hair.

“Don't you worry,” Bill whispered. “Everything will be all right in the end.”

* * *

When Bill next came to, it was to very different weights on his legs and stomach. He cracked open his eyes and looked down.

_Oh, yeah. Five days._

Two heads were in the same position as he'd left them in, black and blond hair looking like birds' nests. They were, however, much larger. Beyond the heads was a lot of skin and Tanner's eyes hit the ceiling again. Five- and seven-year-old's clothing wasn't going to fit them anymore.

Tanner pursed his lips and debated his course of action. He cleared his throat lightly.

“Say nothing,” both heads said simultaneously, one in a growl the other a light sing-song.

Bill obeyed, but couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up inside him. Soon enough, Q and Bond were laughing too.

“Can we get you some clothes? There is way too much skin going on over there.”

Q hummed. “Probably wise. I need to find clothes so I can find and destroy all photo evidence of my brief trip to childhood, and enough people think I'm a mad scientist already.”

Bill laughed. “It's going to be a long mission.”

Bond turned over to look at him. “Are you sure you're all right?”

“Certain.” Bill smiled. “Do you remember, then?”

“Everything,” Q groaned.

“It wasn't all bad, we still destroyed the other agents,” Bond said happily.

“At _hide and seek,_ ” Q grimaced. “I hugged M.”

James pulled a face. “I think I did, too.”

“Terrifying, I know,” Tanner grinned. “Cooking was scarring.”

“No, I think chips and custard will catch on,” Q said ponderously.

“Disagree, that was awful,” Bill said.

“You said it was nice!” Q complained, laughing.

“You were four!” Bill countered.

The door opened as James moaned “I can never go to that McDonalds again.”

Mallory looked very confused, even with his eyes shut. “While it's good to see you all well, there are some things no one should have to see. Please, please, dress yourselves.”

Eve appeared behind him and looked through the door. “Oh, fuck,” she said, eyes slamming shut.

“No-no word!” The others chorused gleefully.

Strange things happened at MI6.

Stranger things happened in Q-branch.

And Tanner could well believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> As a Brit, when I say chips, I mean oven baked ones. Fries. Whatever.  
> I know little of which I speak, including childcare, what seven- and four-year-olds like/do and panic attacks. Be kind if my information is false.  
> I did look up how to make bacon ice cream, though. Sounds good.


End file.
